Her Love, His Understanding
by TheFairySylvia
Summary: An exploration of the concept that is love through the life and struggles of Sophitia Alexandra. AlgolxSophitia, but it's more of a mutual relationship. Takes place after SCIV. A rather poignant ficlet.


A mother is a sacred being. A mother brings new life, new hope into the earth. A mother is full of love, for she, just as the beautiful Mother Nature, the very miracle which breathes life into the world, seeks to nurture and protect her young, an instinct that fuels her. And for that reason alone a mother is strong, devoted, caring, yet she must suffer the agonies that her love conjures. The sheer will to love, to protect and save, shall always be a trial, for with it comes suffering and sacrifice.

None know this more than Sophitia Alexandra.

As she sits by the fountain of her little hovel, a quaint and cozy setting near the outskirts of her hometown, as she watches her children play and frolic in the garden, their wild fancies conceiving the house a grand castle, and their tiny terrier a proud and fierce steed, the mother Sophitia muses over her life. She allows her fingers to dip themselves into the water, dancing along the clear surface, feeling a refreshing summer breeze caress her skin. Warm and nostalgic energy courses throughout her curvaceous frame, and thoughts of her past, her battles, all of her exploits swarm into her mind.

There once prospered an evil in the world, an evil so great and terrifying, an evil that threatened to consume her life, the lives of her beloved children; it sought to devastate her family, her darling, _darling _family.

Though the evil seed has long vanished, even in deep slumber the mother is haunted; even now she feels a cold, forbidding chill overtake her senses, and the rosy hue on her cheeks begins to slowly fade. The aura of the very evil she fought tainted her soul. A time long, long ago the influence of the evil entity conquered her entire being, and thus she became a slave to it. For the sake of her family she succumbed to its sway. She the mother of her two dear children, the wife of a loving blacksmith, warrior of the gods, the daughter of a baker, had no choice in the matter; she simply couldn't let the evil win…

…But to her…it felt as though it _had_.

Yes, because she was defiled by it, her soul was nearly eaten whole by it until she was reborn a mindless pawn, and she_ permitted_ the evil into her life, for if she had not then her family it would have mercilessly slain, and she simply _could not _let it win.

But the evil _had_ won. The mother believed she, with her own gentle, virtuous hands, would one moonless night shed the blood of her kin under the behest of the evil sword. That she, the maternal and dutiful Sophitia, would drink from the bodies of her precious family and sate her thirst like a sick, twisted monster, that she would lick her lips and smile a malicious smile as the cruel, ruby nectar trickled down her chin, that she would find _amusement _and _satisfaction_ in pleasing her master: the evil known as Soul Edge.

It was not to be. The mother's love was boundless, much more powerful than any evil in the world. Thus _she_ had won, but she did not come to realize this herself.

Never will she forget those words spoken to her by _him_. The very man, a strong father with a love for his son as great as her love for her young ones, who reached out to her and delivered her from Soul Edge's dire manipulation, spoke to her the truth.

Yes, because she was told that _her love_ had won and not the evil entity, and she was then given no choice but to return to her children believing that.

And it was his _understanding_ which saved her, which granted her the strength to believe in herself. So return home she did, keeping his words close to her heart, and since then never had she the need to raise her sword in battle. Her life flourished with peace.

Presently a hand came to rest on Sophitia's shoulder, thus unshackling her from the chains of her reveries.

She looks up and discovers the wide, emerald orbs of a young woman staring into her own glistening ones.

"Mother, why do you cry?" asks her daughter, voice soft and sweet.

Had the mother been so lost, so entranced and ensnared by the web of her memories that even she was never conscious of the cool, salty droplets flowing down her cheeks? She quickly lifts a hand to her face and brushes the tears away, and instinctively she casts her gaze back at the garden.

Naught but the old, stone walls remain.

It was the evening time, the sunlight wanes steadily and autumn is nigh, yet she feels the summer breeze all over again, and Sophitia watches her little ones cavort in the lush garden and wishes she too were as young and naïve as them.

"Come inside, mother. It's supper time."

She, the strong and beautiful Sophitia, smiles, but her daughter does not, and might never, _truly_ understand why.


End file.
